The hours and minutes before a storm are like negative space. Like all the molecules in the air arrange themselves into little concave vessels, ready to be filled with with water and wind and electricity.

This morning the sky was dark and green. The birds were conspicuously absent. The wind came out to play.

I stood out in it - feeling the wind, the electricity, and the eager, open-armed molecules on my skin and it occurred to me:

The moments before a storm are both empty and full; they are tentative, and charged with invisible energy, like the moments before a kiss.